


Until São Paulo

by SecretNerdPrincess



Category: Timeless (TV 2016)
Genre: Angst, Based off script spoilers, But from my own active imagination, F/M, Future Fic, Soulmates, garcy
Language: English
Status: Completed
Published: 2018-10-25
Updated: 2018-10-25
Packaged: 2019-08-07 15:40:36
Rating: Not Rated
Warnings: No Archive Warnings Apply
Chapters: 1
Words: 3,074
Publisher: archiveofourown.org
Story URL: https://archiveofourown.org/works/16411262
Author URL: https://archiveofourown.org/users/SecretNerdPrincess/pseuds/SecretNerdPrincess
Summary: Garcia Flynn walked away from Lucy Preston, getting himself stranded in 2012, believing it was for the best. Two and half years later, he waits outside a bar in São Paulo for his last glimpse of the woman he loves. Lucy Preston might have something to say about that.





	Until São Paulo

**Author's Note:**

  * For [NancyDfan](https://archiveofourown.org/users/NancyDfan/gifts).



> I should note this is based off the script spoilers Abby dropped on the fandom yesterday like no big deal. Lol. This is where my mind went with those snippets of scenes.

xxxxx  
September 12, 2014  
xxxxx

Garcia Flynn leaned against the brick wall in the darkened alley and stared at the old wooden door of the bar as if he could force her to walk out of it just by wanting. Two years, seven months, and one day he bided his time. Taking on odd names and even odder jobs. Robert Todd Kennedy. Ernest Humiston. John Arnold. Always remembering her. The glint of her sassy eyes as she snarked at him. The fall of her shoulders when she felt defeated. Her determination when she refused to give in. Time and again. She never gave in. Never stopped fighting. For history. For him.

Until he walked away.

To be fair, he didn’t walk away, he just didn’t fight destiny when it presented him with the best option. The story of Lucy and Flynn and their love affair across time ended badly and he couldn’t let her suffer through that. Wanted her to remember him going to earn his redemption. Though he couldn’t save Lorena and Iris, he could help Wyatt save his wife and unborn child. Even if it meant he’d only see her one last time.

She’d be happy with Wyatt. The man had looked Flynn in the eye and promised to make it right. To treat Lucy with the respect she deserved. To be kind to Jessica and his unborn child. Flynn had realized the truth the moment future Wyatt and Lucy stepped out of the lifeboat. His heart crumbled to dust and he vowed he’d give her that lighthearted happiness with Wyatt. Flynn’s past stalked him too long, ruined him for someone as innocent as Lucy. Though she dipped into the darkness, as all of them had, she didn’t belong there.

And in his darker more selfish moments, he didn’t want half her heart. He wanted it all. Wanted to love her with every molecule of his being and wanted to be loved as if his life depended on it.

Then Jiya revealed her vision of his future. She saw him standing at a crossroads, the details hazy, but one choice led him to Lucy and a life they’d share with her constantly looking back. Where he’d live with only half her heart. The life they shared that was written in the journal. She deserved better. He’d written her that letter praying she finally believed him. That she took the Lifeboat to São Paulo and gave past him the journal. That she’d set it all in motion and walk away.

So he waited for her in the shadows. Wanted to see her happiness for himself. To know that he gave her that one last gift. He left his heart to her memory.

xxxxx

“May I sit down?” Lucy drank in the sight of him.

“Whatever you’re selling, I ain’t buying,” he glanced at her over his shoulder. “But the seat’s not taken, you’re welcome to occupy it.” He turned away, dismissing her.

She draped her leather jacket over the back of the bar stool as the bartender approached. She ordered a vodka and shot it down, immediately ordering a second. She’d missed him so much. It took every ounce of willpower she possessed not to grab him and shake him, demanding answers. How could he just leave her? Did he think that letter was enough? The journal? She’d read it now too and it burned a hole in her pocket. She didn’t want to give it to him knowing everything that waited for him, but she had to. It’s how their story started. And ended apparently.

She sat next to Garcia Flynn sharing a drink for the last time. Only he had no idea who she was. Had no idea how many words inside her clawed for freedom. How she’d lived for the last five years with half a heart. Some melodramatic fool with a time machine stole the other half and ran away. She fidgeted, avoiding beginning the conversation that would end their acquaintance forever.

 _Maybe_ ...her half-heart started to get away from her... _maybe he’s waiting outside_. She banished the thought. She ran out of all but the smallest sliver of hope long ago. The day Denise told her about the body on the beach thinking she’d stop waiting for him to walk through the door of the bunker. She never did. Neither did he.

And there he sat, not two feet away. She could reach out for him. Could entwine their fingers and fold her body into his arms. She wanted the comfort of his beating heart, she’d lived without it for too long.

Lucy shook herself of the lingering melancholy. He made his choice. Whether she agreed with it or not, she’d proceed with the mission and then go back to her vodka and her books in Flynn’s old room.

She couldn’t avoid the end any longer. “Garcia Flynn.”

He whipped his head to stare at her. “How do you know my name?”

“I know you.” I know everything about you, she wanted to say.

His gaze raked over the grey t-shirt she’d stolen from his drawer in the bunker. “I’m fairly certain I’d remember you.” Something dangerous danced behind his eyes. This Flynn barely contained his rage, every inch of his body ready to react to any threat.

This wasn’t how she wanted this to go. If this was the last time she’d ever see him, she wanted a memory she could take with her as the days rolled on without him. Most of all she wanted to see him smile again.

“My name is Lucy Preston and I’m from your future,” she tried to invoke a bit of her inner Flynn, confident with a side of sass. She risked a glance and saw shock streak across his expression. “I know it’s hard to believe--”

“Hard to believe?” He laughed, disbelief exploding out of him. “Have another drink, Lucy.” He tilted his glass to her and stood to walk away.

He couldn’t leave, he just couldn’t. “I know about Lorena and Iris,” the words tumbled out of her. “I know that you're chasing Rittenhouse across the globe trying to avenge their deaths.”

“What do you want?” he spat his words out through gritted teeth, his hand reaching for the weapon at his hip.

She stopped the movement with one touch of her hand against his, facing him to show she was unafraid. Flynn would never hurt her, their souls were tied together through this maddening dance through time.

“You’re going to need my help to defeat them.” She pulled the journal from her pocket and held it out in front of her. “You and I work together in the future to bring them down.” She offered him a tentative smile hoping it’d be enough to get him to take the journal. “I can tell you more if you don’t believe me.”

He reached for the battered leather journal, his fingers brushing hers as he took it, electricity sparking between them. He studied her face. “No. No. I don’t know why I believe you, but I do.”

His hand retreated, sliding the book into his inner pocket, and she missed its warmth. She finished her vodka and stood, avoiding his eyes. Felt her strength crumbling as she prepared to walk away from him forever. No matter that shred of her heart that believed she’d find her Flynn here, waiting somewhere in the shadows to take her into his arms, she wouldn’t give into that near impossible hope.

“Well…” she fumbled around, turning away unsure. How in the world was she supposed to walk away from him? She shrugged on her jacket.

This time he stopped her with a light touch on her shoulder. “Tell me something about us.”

She turned back to him. “Us?”

He smiled down at her, soft, hopeful. “There’s obviously an us, I know that jacket.”

No, only memory and what might have been, she didn’t say. “We make quite the team.” And before she broke down, she walked away.

xxxxx

Every swing of the heavy door brought a surge of anticipation. Until the time it opened and Lucy stepped into the light. In that instant, time froze and he thought he could live in this moment forever. She stood there, not twenty feet away, wearing the leather jacket he’d left behind for her. He figured she’d hang it in a closet somewhere and forget about it over time.

He fought his instinct to run to her. Held himself in place by sheer force of will. Her heart always belonged to someone else. But standing there, watching her scan the street, he missed her so much he would’ve taken whatever scraps of love she had to offer him. Not a day went by that he didn’t think about her.

He should walk away, he knew he should, but something kept him in place. She was wearing his jacket. It could be nothing. But she still hadn’t moved from the doorway of the bar, as if waiting for someone. Could it be possible she was waiting for him?

When future Lucy showed up in the bunker she hadn’t worn a ring, but the fact that she had Wyatt in tow and no future Flynn, he assumed they’d gotten together. It helped him let go of her in the first place. Though, if he was honest, he never let go of her. He’d never looked at another woman after the day he’d left her, his heart belonged to Lucy Preston.

He memorized the sight of her. Allowed himself this indulgence.

xxxxx

Alive. Across the street, tucked into the alley, almost completely hidden. Except she knew that face. Knew the line of his jaw, the brush of hair across his forehead, all she needed was the flicker of movement that brought his face out of the shadows briefly.

Garcia Flynn was alive.

She couldn’t make her feet move, she’d wished for this for so long. He stepped out of the shadows and it was her Garcia, the man she’d lived without for so long. They stayed in place, studying the other. Did he still love her? She fingered his last letter that she’d tucked into her pocket for this mission. He’d signed it Love...Garcia Flynn. Had he meant it? Was it just a pretty lie? A way to leave her with a modicum of dignity?

And then she remembered he’d stolen her choice from her and she was angry. Proper angry.

He watched her face cycle through a hundred emotions. He didn’t move for fear that she’d reveal that she and Wyatt were together and happy. Then he’d have to be happy for her and let her go again. Why had he come here?

Facing her now, he knew he’d been lying to himself this whole time. He left her that one small clue. He couldn’t deny it, he wanted this. Even if she left him behind, he needed to know she was happy.

Something flickered across her face and he realized that she was absolutely, in no way, shape, or form, happy. This time he fought the instinct to run. He’d stand there and face anything she threw at him. He deserved it.

She stormed across the street. There was no other way to describe it. “What gave you the right?”

“The right?” he asked, off-kilter.

“Don’t play dumb, Flynn. You know exactly what I’m talking about.” Lucy folded her arms over her chest and waited for his response. With obvious impatience.

“God you look good,” fell out before he could stop himself.

“Don’t change the subject,” she said, despite the slight smile she tried to hide. He smiled back, didn’t even try to help it and his eyes crinkled up. Oh god, she wanted to live in that smile. “You know what you did.”

His smile fell. “I left you.”

“Yes, you left me.” She felt like she was going to explode. Anger warred with relief. “And you made the decision for both of us.”

“I did.”

“How can you stand there so calmly? What gave you the right to decide for me?” She didn’t know if she wanted to kiss him or punch him.

His body yearned to take her in his arms. “Didn’t you read the journal?”

“I did.”

“Then how can you ask me that?” Flynn was confused. “If you read it, you know how it ended.”

She began to pace. “So your solution was to extract yourself from the situation the first chance you got.”

“I only ever wanted you to be happy.” He reached for her and she skirted his hand.

“With Wyatt.” She stopped and whirled on him. “You thought you knew better than me.”

“No, no.” He scrubbed a hand through his hair. “I had your thoughts, your journal. You made it obvious--”

“I read the damn journal. I made nothing obvious other than I had regrets about Wyatt.” She threw her hands up in the air. “File that under Obvious.”

“But--”

“But what?” She faced him, only inches away, her chin tilting up, defiant.

He backed up, overwhelmed by years of repressed emotions. Telling himself that she was better off without him. “You wrote that you wished it hadn’t ended with Wyatt.”

She closed the distance between them again. “No. I wrote that I had regrets about how it ended. Because,” she poked him in the chest “and I would’ve told you this if you’d just, you know, asked me, we slept together once and then he ditched me for his miraculously alive wife. Then, just as a bonus, he tried to keep me around even after he went back to her. All while I tried to figure out how I felt about you. What wouldn’t I change about that situation?”

Flynn swallowed as he looked down at her flushed face and realized he’d been an absolute fool. “So, what you’re saying…”

“Is that you’re an idiot and I’ve been praying for five years that you were still alive.” Tears streamed down her cheeks. “Do you understand that? I mourned you and yet hoped you’d pull some miraculous Flynn stunt and stride right into the bunker. For five years. You planted that body on the beach knowing we’d search, didn’t you?”

He nodded, words stuck in his throat. He’d gotten so much wrong and he had no idea how to begin to make it right. The heart he’d forgotten he had cracked wide open, drenched in her tears.

“I wanted to make it easier for you.” His arms ached for her, but he didn’t dare reach out, couldn’t handle the rejection now on this precipice between joy and agony.

“Easier,” she responded, a sad chuckle underlying her words. “It wasn’t easier.” She turned away. “You should have talked to me.”

“I know that now. I’m sorry.” How could she ever forgive him?

She swiped at a tear and faced him again. “Can I ask you something?”

Tears came to his eyes at the desolation in her tone. As if she’d already resigned herself to some dark future. “Anything.”

She withdrew the well-worn letter from her pocket. “Were you hoping I’d come back to you when you wrote this? Your reminder of this bar on this night. The one night you knew we’d be in the same time and place again.”

“It was my one weakness. I couldn’t let you go. Not really.” This time he took a step forward. “If I’m honest, tonight was my last hope and every day since I left you, I waited for this chance to see you. To tell you,” he wouldn’t hesitate now, “I love you. That no matter your decision tonight, I will love you until the end of time.”

She smirked up at him. “Oh, do I get a decision this time?”

He hung his head in chagrin, “Can you ever forgive me for that?”

“It depends.” she replied, noticing that his bowed head brought his lips conveniently close to hers.

His heart thumped in his chest. “On what?” he asked, knowing he’d agree to anything.

“You told me once I believed in fate. In meant to be.” Their bodies gravitated towards each other. “I need to test a theory.”

He swore he forgot how to breathe, her body so close to his that one deep inhale would erase the distance. “Okay.”

She leaned into him, going onto tiptoe to bring their lips together. The rest of the world disappeared and her hands reached up, her fingers running through his hair as his arms wrapped around her, pulling her in. Protecting her from anything and everything for as long as she wanted. Even if it was only this moment. He poured the nights he spent awake missing her, waiting to see her again, dreading every day this night crept closer.

Lucy lost herself in the kiss, knew she’d been looking for this her entire life. This feeling and this man. Her heart flared back to life as his lips coaxed the truth from her. She gave him everything. Her grief and the days she refused to leave his room, too tired to do anything more than count the ceiling squares.

But then she kissed him with all her hope, her longing for him and the hole his absence left in her life. Their tears mingling with years of withheld passion. She kissed him as if her life depended on it. And who knew, maybe it did.

Flynn pulled away with regret, but traced his fingers over her cheeks, wiping away her tears with a gentle reverence.

“I was right,” she gazed up at him, lost in the love written across his face. “You’re my fate, Garcia Flynn. And I’m your meant to be. That’s just how it is.” She brushed her lips over his. “I suggest you get used to it.”

“Do I get a say in the matter?” he teased her, tucking a strand of hair behind her ear.

“Nope, it’s my turn to choose.” She threaded her fingers through his. “I assume you agree?”

“This wish of this possibility kept me alive during my darkest nights. I’m yours, if you’ll have me.” He held his breath, her answer had the power to crush his heart to dust once again.

“I love you, Garcia Flynn and I’ve waited five years to tell you that.” She tugged him further into the alley where the Lifeboat lay hidden. “Let’s go home.”


End file.
